A Birthday to Never Forget
by RubyFiamma
Summary: [8059] [Smut] [Birthday Fic 9/9] Gokudera has always hated his birthday, hates to be the center of attention but when the entire Vongola family forgets his birthday he realizes just how much he's taken them all for granted.


Ah, I was hoping to have this done in time for Gokudera's birthday but it's just a couple minutes late! Happy birthday, 'Dera!

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**[Pairing] **Yamamoto x Gokudera

**[Fandom]** Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

**[Rating]** R18

**[Warnings]** Smut, swearing

**[Word Count]** 4 286

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**A Birthday to Never Forget**

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Gokudera has never really liked his birthday, for several different reasons. The first and most major was that his mother had died shortly after his third birthday. The second being he didn't like nor _need_ the attention people felt obligated to give you on the day in question. He was just another person, there wasn't any reason people had to go all out and make a big deal over something so trivial.

While in Italy, it got to the point where his birthday would come and go and he wouldn't even realize it. Too many other things were more of an importance, like becoming something - accepted by anyone but especially his new famiglia, the Vongola.

When he had moved to Japan, the Tenth and everyone else took it upon themselves to make his birthday something special but it didn't make much of a difference to him. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the efforts put in by the Tenth, if anything it made him happy to be acknowledged by him in such a way, proud to call him a boss and more importantly his _friend. _The reasons for disliking his birthday never changed, no matter how many parties or celebrations were held and no matter how many years had passed by.

Today wasn't any different - well, maybe just a little.

He's turning twenty-five and the day began like any other day - which he was totally fine with.

For the last three years he's been seeing the ex-baseball-now-natural-born-eyeroll-hitman idiot. He isn't going to go in to details as to how or when or even _why_, call it old age senility, but he is in some whatever-you-want-to-call-it relationship with Yamamoto, and Yamamoto has been away overseas doing what he does best. Not baseball.

He's glad Yamamoto isn't here for this birthday because the last two he tried to make a big deal of and it pissed Gokudera off and it ended in them arguing _both _times. The gifts were never accepted but the imported sake and aged whiskey didn't go to waste. Gokudera took the bottles back with them and engaged in his own private party in the comfort of his own bedroom back at the base to avoid being home with the idiot and his stupid face.

Yamamoto just doesn't understand and Gokudera gets that, he's too stupid too understand much of anything he _isn't _good at but what Gokudera can't understand is why Yamamoto just can't learn from all the other fucking years he's had a problem with his birthday.

That aside, Gokudera goes to work at the estate; catching up on reports, yelling at Lambo, attending a negotiations meeting with Ryohei to make sure they go over smoothly and talking over an upcoming mission with the Tenth is how he spends his Tuesday afternoon. No one mentions his birthday, not even the Tenth.

At first, after waking up to no emails or texts or missed calls to wish him a happy birthday, he was actually glad to see that Yamamoto had gotten the point. When Lambo failed to mention it, Gokudera hadn't even given it a second thought. The stupid cow - though older - was still too stupid to remember anything other than his own name and how much he enjoyed candy. Ryohei was no different, he was too dense to focus on anything other than the task at hand.

But after he finished with the Tenth and he hadn't mentioned anything, Gokudera felt a small pang of disappointment. It wasn't like the Tenth to not pay attention to these things but rather than Gokudera think anything of it, he chalked it up to the fact that the Tenth was a mature adult now, the tenth generation boss for Italy's renowned Vongola famiglia. He didn't have time to remember everything, especially something as trivial as Gokudera's birthday.

Shortly after, he ran into the girls. Not one of them said a word to him other than _hello! _and continued on busying themselves in the kitchen.

It was especially unlike Haru, Sasagawa and I-Pin to ignore his birthday. And completely uncharacteristic of his sister to not annoy him with suffocating sisterly gestures, _especially _on his birthday.

Walking back to his office, Gokudera had to wonder if he had gotten the dates right and if today was indeed his birthday. Checking the calendar only proved him right, and that's when he began feeling just a little bit lonely.

Out of all the people he has in his life, he at least expected a message from the idiot, even if Gokudera's wasn't against it. Yamamoto didn't always listen to him anyways. But after checking his phone, there were no messages or missed calls; no trace of anything proving Yamamoto had been thinking about him.

It definitely starts to eat away at him, he hasn't had anyone actually _ignore _his birthday before, and since coming to Japan, he's gotten used to the attention, he guesses, of everyone fretting over him on his birthday. It makes him feel a little selfish now that he thinks about it. Everyone else going through such trouble, especially the Tenth, to make his birthday each year a happy one, yet each year he rains on their parade and acts like a pissy little brat (_here's borrowing one of your fondest names for me, Shamal - you bastard, who also hasn't even wished me a happy birthday_), ungrateful for all that everyone has done for him.

Gokudera guesses that's the moral of this story, that he doesn't know what he's got until it's gone and now he really misses Yamamoto, though he'd die first before ever telling him that.

That night, Gokudera makes it back to the apartment he and Yamamoto share and he's been gone for almost two weeks already. It's never bothered him the length of time Yamamoto goes for, because he trusts the idiot enough to know that he'll be coming back and that he's got his own stuff he needs to work out for the Vongola, so he can't be bothered to miss him but now… now he really realizes just how lonely the apartment is without him as he stands in the dark.

He sighs and shuts the door behind him and reaches out an arm to search for the light switch. Part of him hopes when he turns on the light that everyone will jump out and yell _Surprise!_ but then he lets out a dry and cynical laugh. He's twenty-five, not fifteen. Adults don't do surprise birthday parties and he's so embarrassed with himself for even having that notion.

Of course, as he flicks on the light, nothing happens. No people jump out, no balloons or confetti scatter the space and there is no Yamamoto there to greet him with that stupid smile Gokudera loves and hates all at the same time.

Dropping the keys into the bowl, Gokudera heaves a long, disappointed sigh and pushes the silver fringe out of his face. He puts away his briefcase, showers and settles into some comfortable clothing and decides to get the party started all on his own with a bottle of his favourite red wine, _Giacomo Conterno Monfortino, Barolo Riserva 2006. _It's spicy and heady with with a smoky kind of finish, and it suits Gokudera perfectly. The only thing he can say the idiot is good at is knowing what he likes and this was a Christmas gift he and Dino collaborated on the year before.

Gokudera polished off the bottle pretty quickly and on an empty stomach (he's not allowed in the kitchen and he doesn't want to eat anyways because he wants Yamamoto's cooking not his own and not take out). He may or may not be drunk, and when he gets drunk he tends to get a little sentimental. Gokudera thinks he was drunk the first night he confessed his feelings for Yamamoto because he wouldn't have done it sober at all. Gokudera was still on the fence if telling Yamamoto how he felt worked out for the better or not.

He had fallen asleep early, more like passed out, buzzed and bitter that his birthday sucked more than it usually did.

Gokudera is suddenly aware of something brushing along his face and so he slaps a hand to his cheek assuming some kind of bug had the audacity to crawl across his face while he slept. He hears someone chuckle and his eyes fly open as he simultaneously jerks up from the leather couch.

Yamamoto looms over him with a huge grin on his face, hazel eyes sparkling in the dim lamplight.

Gokudera scowls. "You idiot."

"You looked really cute while you slept," Yamamoto comments. "All frowny like this and grouchy like this." He demonstrates Gokudera's facial expressions on his own and dodges quickly when Gokudera's fist comes flying towards him.

"Bastard. I'm not fucking cute. What are you doing home?' Gokudera tiredly wipes the sleep from his eyes. He still feels a little dunk.

Yamamoto moves around the couch and eyes the bottle of Barolo and frowns. "I'm sorry I'm late. I tried to get an earlier flight so I could be here in the morning, but the weather was bad and the flights were delayed."

Gokudera shrugs and reaches over to grab his cigarettes off the table. "Don't apologize, you idiot. That's not your fault." He fits a stick between his teeth and lights it.

Yamamoto picks up the bottle of Barolo and inspects it, squinting an eye into the empty bottle. Gokudera rolls his eyes.

"Starting the party early, huh," Yamamoto says almost dejectedly. "I'm sorry my plan kinda backfired."

Gokudera looks up at Yamamoto with suspicion. "What are you talking about?"

Yamamoto bites his lip, resigns and sighs. "Well, this year I asked everyone to ignore your birthday - so I could trick you into being…" He shrugs. "I don't know, sad I guess. I just wanted to you to get upset that no one remembered you're birthday so that I could throw you the biggest surprise party and see your face light right up."

Gokudera wants to scowl and tell him he's fucking stupid, but then Yamamoto's own eyes light up as he tells Gokudera his plans and he can't find it in him to be even the slightest bit angry or annoyed with the idiot. Most of all he's just happy that the idiot is home. Not that Gokudera likes him or anything, it's just that drinking by himself isn't as much fun as having someone moronic there to laugh at when he's drunk.

"You dumb ass," Gokudera mutters and he can feel his lips tug at a lazy grin. "I would have hated that, and you know it."

Yamamoto puts the bottle down on the coffee table and plops down on the sofa beside him. His frown deepens and he gains a profound interest in the parquet floor beneath his feet. "Yeah… I guess you're right."

Gokudera's grin disappears from his face. He hadn't meant to make the idiot upset. Scrambling to fix it, Gokudera stumbles over words of some kind of Gokuderaish apology.

"N-not t-that I w-w-ouldn't, you know, a-ap-appreciate the gesture," he says while waving his hands defensively and flushing. Fuck, he hated how Yamamoto made him feel sometimes. He quickly took a drag of his cigarette.

Yamamoto turned to him with his thousand watt grin, eyes crinkled happily in the corners. "Really?"

Gokudera calms down and takes another pull of his smoke, blowing it out in short plumes that he turns into an 'O' each breath. He shrugs nonchalantly. "Of course, idiot. What do you take me for, some sort of cruel and heartless bastard?"

Yamamoto's bright grin turns into something a little more menacing and he arches a brow. "You are kind of a bastard sometimes," he says.

Gokudera slaps him on the back of his head and Yamamoto laughs and grabs his wrist before he has a chance to pull it away. He pulls Gokudera in close and wraps his arms around him, squeezing.

"Lemme go, you giant oaf," Gokudera complains, reaching over to snub his cigarette out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

"Aren't you curious to see what I got you for your birthday?" Yamamoto asks, brushing his lips against Gokudera's earlobe.

Gokudera shivers delectably, turns to face Yamamoto and arches a inquisitive brow. "What did you get me?" His face flushes when Yamamoto grins and he looks away, huffing.

"Not that I _want _anything from you, baseball freak."

"Ma, that's fine because I didn't get you anything this time. The last two times I got you something you made me take them back. Ah, Gokudera's very cruel."

"Che. It's because you're embarrassing, you idiot."

Yamamoto smiles fondly and leans in to kiss Gokudera, his chin bumping against Gokudera's nose.

Gokudera loves to kiss Yamamoto, though he'll never tell him at the risk of inflating his already unnecessarily large ego. He tastes sweet and the fullness of his lips are soft and warm against his own. Yamamoto's tongue rolls over his, and Gokudera let's his eyelids fall closed, moving his hands into his soft, dark hair.

He gasps a little when Yamamoto's hands slide down his chest and back up, his fingers brushing over his nipples through the thin material of his t-shirt.

Gokudera can feel Yamamoto smirk against his lips as he shifts himself so that Gokudera is forced to fall in between his long legs on the sofa. His hand dips dangerously low, past the waistline of Gokudera's sweats.

Gokudera looks up at Yamamoto and glowers. "Hey… What do you think you're doing?"

Yamamoto's lips form an impish grin as he speaks in his sultry baritone voice, the one that resounds deep in Gokudera's groin.

"Giving you a birthday present you can't take back." He emphasizes with a gentle squeeze to Gokudera's crotch.

Gokudera automatically shifts his hips up into the touch but he scoffs anyways. "Idiot. Sex isn't a gift, we do it all the time."

"Mm… Maybe so, but I've got something planned that will make you think twice about hating your birthday." Yamamoto curls his hands under Gokudera's t-shirt and lifts it up.

Gokudera snorts. "As if, dumb ass. You can't possibly do anything better than what you already do." He clamps his mouth shut while his face flares with heat after realizing the weight of his words. "I-I mean t-that y-you-"

Yamamoto laughs at his flustering and pulls off Gokudera's shirt. "So you think I'm good at what I do, huh?"

Gokudera breathes out a heavy puff through his nostrils and crosses his arms over his bare chest. "S-shut up you idiot,"

"Well…? Are you going to accept my gift?"

"Of what, sex?" Gokudera snorts again. "Go ahead," he challenges. "I doubt you'll be as good as your fat head thinks you are."

Yamamoto's grin goes from innocent to a malicious smirk. "Is that a challenge?"

Gokudera returns the smirk with one of his own. "Yeah, asshole, it is."

"Okay." Yamamoto gets up off the couch abruptly and Gokudera's upper body flops down on the couch. He glares at Yamamoto while he shrugs out of his blazer. "You have to let me do whatever I want."

"Hey, it's my birthday, you fucker."

"I mean that you have to let me do what I want _to you_. No objections."_  
_

"What if I don't like it?"

"I won't do anything you won't like, I promise."

"Stupid. How do you know what I like and don't like?"

Yamamoto heaves a sigh. "Gokudera… just shut up and stop complaining. Okay?"

Gokudera scowls and adjusts himself on the couch so that his back is pressed up against the armrest. "Whatever. But if you do something stupid, I'm going to hit you."

Yamamoto chuckles. "Fair enough."

After a moment of silence, Gokudera raises his silver eyebrows expectantly. "Well? What are you waiting for? This is starting to feel awkward."

"Ah," Yamamoto rubs the back of his head sheepishly. "I was just thinking about how much I love you."

"Che. You really are such a sap. Don't ruin the mood, bastard."

Yamamoto fits himself in between Gokudera's legs and presses his lips along his collar bone. "Don't worry, 'Dera… I'll set the mood right."

Gokudera sniggers and clutches a handful of Yamamoto's hair, tugging his head back. "Don't be such a cocky bastard either."

"Haha. You should just lay back and be quiet," Yamamoto says, lashing out his tongue when he's close enough to Gokudera's mouth and traces along his bottom lip.

Gokudera listens and fits his mouth over Yamamoto's, taking his bottom lip in and kneading it between his teeth. And just when he thought he had control, Yamamoto pulls away and pushes him back against the couch. Gokudera doesn't say a word and lets Yamamoto kiss him, hard pressed against the contour of his jaw, along his neck and down to his collarbone.

There Yamamoto switches to soft, open mouth kisses that flutter off his skin; barely touching. He moves down Gokudera's chest and lets his lips linger and ghost, exhaling heated breath. Gokudera's skin prickles with the contact, tingles curl his toes and make him arch his spine just slightly further into Yamamoto's embrace.

Yamamoto spends little time lapping over Gokudera's nipples, uses that as a precursor while he divests Gokudera of his sweat pants. He works his way down, nipping gently and dipping his tongue in each curve of muscle in Gokudera's abdomen. So far none of this is new, but Gokudera doesn't care anymore, he's hard and straining and the heat of Yamamoto's mouth and the damp trail his tongue leaves along his skin is enough to make him forget their little challenge.

Yamamoto mouths over the cotton fabric of Gokudera's boxers, over his hard cock, and Gokudera elicits a gasp somewhere in between relief and surprise. Gokudera's hands found their way into Yamamoto's hair where he let his fingers card through and finally curling them in and tugging when Yamamoto's teeth grazed along his clothed shaft.

"Hah… Hurry up, bastard."

Yamamoto looks up and smirks, spreads Gokudera's legs a little wider and nips at the inside of his thigh. "Shh," he mouths, wet against his skin. "Be patient, or it's over."

Gokudera frowns - or tries to - as Yamamoto's lips work their way closer and closer to his groin, warm on his bare skin. "You suck at giving birthday presents," he mutters.

Yamamoto bites him, a sharp warning pinch. "You said you'd let me do what I want, and I want to take things slow."

Gokudera shuts his mouth.

Not wasting any time, Yamamoto hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Gokudera's boxers and slides them down his thighs just to his knees. He licks his lips and Gokudera mirrors the action as Yamamoto cups him with one hand and the other gives his cock a few sure strokes before he fits his mouth over the head.

Gokudera allows a groan to slip through his lips and he tightens the grip he has on Yamamoto's hair. He tries to buck up into Yamamoto's mouth, tries to get the wetness and warmth his cock so desperately craves but Yamamoto doesn't allow it. He sets his palms firmly against Gokudera's hips and pushes them deep into the cushion of the sofa. He doesn't move his mouth down, he concentrates on the tip, swirling his tongue around it.

"F-fuck…"

Yamamoto moves one hand to his shaft and grips it tight, flicking his wrist the same way he'd maneuver Shigure Kintoki. As if the baseball idiot wasn't excellent at swordplay, he's sure as hell amazing at giving hand jobs, blow jobs and everything else he fucking does and Gokudera's eyes roll into the back of his head while he prays Yamamoto will take pity on him and just let him fuck his mouth.

But he doesn't, not yet anyways. He takes his mouth away, leaving Gokudera's heated flesh with a cold shock and he spreads Gokudera's ass, licking a tentative stripe up the crease and Gokudera chokes on a breath. He continues the leisurely ministrations and Hayato swears he's going to fucking scream with the excruciatingly slow pace of it all. He's never been one to move at a slow and lazy pace; he likes hard and fast, rough and blinding. Just like a storm moving through a stationary sky, he needs to blow right through with gale force and explode into blistering chaos. It's the way he likes everything to be and right now, Yamamoto's tranquil approach to teasing the fuck out of him is driving him insane.

A finger slips in, slow and probing and Gokudera is all but whimpering, heat piled high in tight coils in his belly and all he wants is to just be nailed, fucked _hard _into the sofa but Yamamoto won't have it, and somewhere deep in Gokudera's lust addled brain he knows that this will make his orgasm far more explosive but he isn't patient enough for that to happen.

Yamamoto's finger grazes over his prostate and his muscles contract, tightening around Yamamoto's finger as he shudders.

"Ah.. Yama… no-not yet," he says but Yamamoto just smirks and swallows the length of his cock.

Gokudera's breath hitches and Yamamoto pushes in another finger, curling them and smoothing against his inner walls while his mouth polishes the engorged flesh. Uncouth expletives spew out of his mouth as Yamamoto finger fucks him and deep throats his cock. Every time the tip of his head hits the back of Yamamoto's throat Gokudera swears he's going to lose it, every time Yamamoto's fingers brush over that bundle of nerves, he swears he's going to fill Yamamoto's mouth to the very brim and relish in the way it spills out over his full lips.

And with one deep skewer of Yamamoto's fingers, Gokudera does exactly that, with no warning but Yamamoto is polite if anything and doesn't complain. He swallows diligently and peers up at Gokudera with such a satisfied look of sheer victory; smug and arrogant, and he licks his lips and chin clean like he enjoys the salt-flat taste.

"J-Jesus f-fuck," Gokudera pants and Yamamoto stands to his full height, stripping off each piece of his clothing slowly while Gokudera watches with bated breath. He hates that he lost out to a moment of weakness because nothing feels better than coming with Yamamoto inside him, but he has to admit that the release from all the pent up lust that had pooled deep within his gut had him reeling from the release.

Yamamoto doesn't speak, he just wears that all-knowing smirk as he kneels down on the couch and takes Gokudera's hips with a firm grasp and doesn't ask for permission before entering him.

Gokudera's mouth quirks to a smirk of his own accord because he likes the look he sees in Yamamoto's eyes. It's one of feral and raw lust, a glint of focus and determination and he thinks that the lazy pace of things has had the same effect on Yamamoto and he's just _dying _to fuck Gokudera hard with conviction.

The sharp agony from the quick entrance burns but Gokudera relishes in it, gasps out of pain and pleasure and wraps his legs around Yamamoto's back, digs his heels in and beckons him to move _deeper_. Yamamoto obliges and Gokudera cries out but now he can go all out and buck wildly under Yamamoto as he sinks in. He rocks his pelvis in concert to Yamamoto's quick and short thrusts, the snap of Yamamoto's hips drive his cock over Gokudera's prostate and leave him seeing white.

"S-shit… fuck me like y-you mean it, b-bastard." And that's all he manages before Yamamoto fucks him _exactly _like he means it, carnal and furious. There are no longing touches and lingering lips. There's teeth scraping raw against flesh, hair pulling and grunting, a no-chance-to-breathe mind numbing motion that's primitive and animalistic and precisely the way Gokudera likes it.

He digs his blunt nails into the scarred flesh of Yamamoto's broad back, slides his hands down over it while mapping every stretch and pull of sinewy muscle. Yamamoto has him screaming out so much that his throat has gone dry and his voice is nothing but harsh and desperate, paper thin but he calls out Yamamoto's name anyways.

It's not long before Gokudera's second orgasm of the night rips through him as intense as an out of control wildfire that spreads rapidly through every inch of his body causing his toes to curl and his muscles tense and he clings on to Yamamoto, breathless and euphoric, teetering on the brink of lucidity.

Yamamoto gasps, tenses and grabs a fistful of Gokudera's silver hair as he combusts, his mouth drawn open in a wordless groan and Gokudera feels the twitching heat fill him. It takes a moment as Yamamoto rides out his climax slowly before he collapses on top of Gokudera.

He rakes a hand through Yamamoto's sweat soaked hair as Yamamoto nuzzles the crook of his neck and whispers, "Happy birthday, Hayato."

Gokudera's lips curl into a smile and after a second he swats the back of Yamamoto's head. "Get off me, you're all heavy and sticky and gross."

"Haha, you are too."

"Yeah well, who's fault is that?"

"I suppose I can take responsibility," Yamamoto says with a chuckle.

"You better, asshole."

Yamamoto laughs and gets up, admiring eyes falling on Gokudera. "I'm sorry I made your birthday suck," he says with a sheepish grin.

"Idiot," Gokudera smirks. He chances a sappy comeback that will most likely stroke the bastard's ego but he's too elated to care. "It'll be a birthday I'll never forget."

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Comments are always appreciated!


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